


(girl meets) the girl of her dreams

by ivermectin



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Riley Matthews, Coming Out, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lesbian Maya Hart, Maya has a ton of self image issues, Mild Hurt/Comfort, POV Maya Hart, Pining, Punk Rebel Bad Girl Maya Hart, mild Harry Potter references, sorry i don't go there anymore... but it felt in character contextually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-08
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:20:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27443302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivermectin/pseuds/ivermectin
Summary: Riley is looking at her like she believes in her, and Maya feels like she’s being held underwater, like she’s drowning.Or: the one in which Maya loves Riley so much that it hurts, and is ready to deal with that ache forever. But maybe she doesn't have to.
Relationships: Maya Hart/Riley Matthews
Comments: 5
Kudos: 87





	(girl meets) the girl of her dreams

**Author's Note:**

> at 4:40AM i realised i couldn't rest unless i wrote this. no regrets!  
> i've watched a bit of season 1 and i think maybe season 2 (??) around three years ago. i don't remember much except that these two were clearly in love. you're welcome.

Maya doesn’t know what to do with this feeling that is so much bigger than her, swelling up in her chest like a balloon about to burst. She frowns, watching as Riley flips through the comics she’d borrowed from the library. She’s going through a superhero comics phase – Maya loves it for her, loves how Riley’s devouring all media with strong female lead, listening to female-fronted rock bands, spending being sixteen by immersing herself into as many fictional worlds as possible. Then again, she loves everything Riley does. Riley shifts, puts her head on Maya’s thigh, humming a song she’d heard on the radio. She puts the comic down.

“What do you look for in a superhero?” Riley asks, looking at Maya.

Maya doesn’t know what to do with this feeling, because Riley is the only person who looks at her like that; like she _knows_ her. And in some way, that is true – Riley knows about her family, about all the things that Maya can’t voice or put a name to, all the insecurities rattling in her chest. Well, almost all of them.

Maya Hart is a lesbian. And she’s in love with her best friend. Two secrets she will take to the grave, thank you very much.

“I think the best superheroes are the ones who know who they are and are proud of it, even if they are different,” Maya says, ignoring the voice in her head that says _you hypocrite._ She reaches out with a shaky hand, puts it on Riley’s cheek. “People like you.”

Riley sighs. “I don’t know any other way to be, Maya,” she says.

Maya doesn’t get it, not exactly – Riley’s neurodivergence is a known thing, and when she’d gotten the autism diagnosis, she hadn’t even been surprised. Even her parents had expected it. It was just who she was. Maya could say that she gets it, but she doesn’t. Just like how Riley doesn’t get her severe depression, which is fine. They understand that there are things that they don’t understand.

“I wouldn’t want you any other way,” Maya says, putting a hand in Riley’s hair, playing with a strand of it. This is normal for them. “Nor will anyone else who loves you.”

Riley exhales deeply. She closes her eyes, shifts her hand so that it’s splayed out on Maya’s ankle.

Maya swallows.

Riley fidgets, gets up. “We should do a movie marathon,” she says. “Or go to that coffee shop. Who knows, maybe we’ll find you a hot date!”

Maya’s hand in Riley’s hair stills. “I don’t want a hot date,” she says.

“Why not?” Riley asks.

Maya doesn’t respond at first, thinking of how she and Riley have been through so much together. Of how Riley was the first person who saw her after she’d dyed her hair a too-bright green. Of that summer she cut Riley’s hair to shoulder length. Of sleepovers and summers spent giggling and sharing the bed. Of pinky promises, of buying each other cute gifts for Christmas, of sharing sweaters, of how Riley’s family was practically her family anyway. Of Riley, growing up, her aesthetic evolving into something preppy and sweet, bubblegum lipstick and elaborate hairstyles, while Maya just went on being punk and reckless, all denim and jackets and eventually, dark eyeliner and goth lipstick. If they were anybody other than Riley and Maya, maybe their friendship would’ve diverged there. But they were Riley and Maya. Riley just smiled at her, and went, “You’re not drinking on school nights, are you?” and Maya said, “Don’t believe everything you hear, Matthews,” and that was that, mostly.

Maya doesn’t know, therefore, what to do with any of this. Riley is a solid fixture in her life. To lose Riley would be like a physical wound; one she could die from. Riley is looking up at her, eyes wide and questioning, enquiring in such a sweet way, just like she used to be in middle school. Riley’s retained that kindness and simplicity that pulled Maya into her orbit all those years ago. Maya’s just become more jagged and rough around the edges over the years. She smokes cigarettes, doesn’t let Riley catch her at it. Says “fuck” a lot. She’s not the sort of person sweet, innocent, lovely Riley Matthews should be getting involved with.

“Riley,” Maya says. “I can’t.”

“But you’re Maya Hart!” Riley says, enthusiastic. She shifts a bit, not getting up from where she’s lying on Maya’s lap, but taking Maya’s free hand with the hand that isn’t tracing patterns on Maya’s ankle (and wow, Riley really is going to be the death of her.) “You’re badass, fierce, strong, amazing! There isn’t a single thing in this world that you can’t do.”

Riley is looking at her like she believes in her, and Maya feels like she’s being held underwater, like she’s drowning. _No wonder all the poets are crazy about love_ , she thinks.

“I can’t date boys,” Maya says. She squeezes Riley’s hand. “I don’t want to. I’m a lesbian, Riley.”

There’s a moment of silence. Riley goes on tracing patters on Maya’s ankle with her finger, and she squeezes her hand back. “Okay,” she says, as if Maya is just talking about a television show or a science class, like it’s no big deal. “So we’ll get you a girlfriend! I’m sure there are tons of girls lining up, ready to date you.”

Maya laughs, bitter. “Riley, it doesn’t matter. I’m not girlfriend material.”

Isn’t that what it boils down to? Maya looks at Riley’s face, at her sunshine smile and the ease with which she just _believed_ in everyone around her. Riley’s the closet thing Maya’s ever seen to a real angel. And Maya? Maya is a gaping chasm of need, really. She’s at Riley’s place because she doesn’t even have a family of her own. What a tragedy Maya Hart is. What a fuck up Maya Hart is. What a wonder Maya Hart is; drinking tequila like a champ, even though she’s only sixteen. Doing body shots off some jock she doesn’t even go to school with. Carrying condoms in her purse even though the only person she wants to have sex with is her best friend. Saving up for a tattoo, talking about joining a punk band, having mental breakdowns in the dead of night and daydreaming about running away from home – in some ways, she _did_ that. She ran to Riley, after all.

“You are so, totally, wonderfully, gloriously girlfriend material,” Riley says, sitting up. “Maya, oh Maya. What have you been telling yourself?” She puts a hand on Maya’s cheek, puts her other arm around Maya, pulling her so that she’s on Riley’s lap. The fact that Riley can tell, can _guess_ at her worst fears, should make Maya feel exposed, naked, vulnerable. Instead, the feeling of being known just makes her feel safe.

“I am a disaster waiting to happen,” Maya says. “And it doesn’t matter, because I’m in love with someone who’ll never love me back.”

“No, no,” Riley says. “I am a disaster that’s already happening. I am even more clumsy than Tonks from the Harry Potter series, and her being clumsy was the singular trait that defined her. So your hypothetical future disasters do not scare me, Maya Hart. And they won’t scare anyone who really cares about you the way you deserve to be cared about.”

Maya hasn’t read the Harry Potter books – Riley and Farkle bonded over them, though. That was a weird time. Riley keeps telling her she’s like a blonde Sirius Black. Maya still doesn’t know if that’s a good thing; all she knows about the dude is that he had a worse family than her, even, and he went to jail for a crime he didn’t commit.

Sounds like her, actually.

“Besides,” Riley says, softly, “who doesn’t love you? You’re very loveable.”

“I am literally a human bulldog,” Maya says.

“I like bulldogs,” Riley says.

 _You’re not the world,_ Maya wants to say, but it’s not even remotely true. Riley is _her_ world. That’s why this is so scary.

Riley’s looking at her like she knows what Maya’s thinking. “Don’t be scared, Maya,” she says, leaning into Maya’s space, pressing their foreheads together. “The Maya Hart _I_ know is fearless.”

Maya does not feel particularly fearless. She feels, instead, like her heart has left her chest and has made its way up her throat and is jammed in her esophagus.

“Tell me about this girl,” Riley insists. “I can help you, you know. I can be your gaydar or something, I’ll see if she’s into you! I can be discreet! I’ll get you the girl of your dreams.”

“You suck at being discreet,” Maya says, smiling. She finally lets herself look at Riley, Riley who’s pressing their bodies together, forehead to forehead, too close in the way they’ve always been. Her hair is a caramel halo around Maya, her smile encouraging and gentle. Her hands holding Maya like she’s a precious thing. Like Maya belongs to her.

Maya’s own words suddenly hit her all over again. _You suck at being discreet,_ she’d said to Riley _._ And it’s true. Riley does. She’s always honest and open in everything she does, and right now there’s something in Riley’s expression that Maya thinks she understands. It’s a familiar, agonising sort of tenderness.

“Would you really get me the girl of my dreams?” Maya asks. There’s something almost like dejection in Riley’s expression for a brief moment, but it flickers away fast.

Riley nods, and is beginning to pull away.

“Wait,” Maya says. “There’s just one thing you need to do. Stay still, and let me kiss you.”

Riley goes still, her lips parting just a little in surprise. This works to Maya’s advantage, as she kisses Riley gently, carefully, as sweetly as she can. And Riley kisses back, her hands curling around Maya, and in that moment Maya isn’t Maya Hart, known troublemaker and the girl your parents warned you about. She’s just a girl, a girl who is loved very much.

Riley breaks away first, taking a shaky breath. She puts her hands in Maya’s hair, smiles almost shyly. “Me. Really? Maya, you could have anyone.”

“I don’t want anyone else,” Maya says. “Riley. I want to live in your world. I want to _be_ your world.”

“You already are,” Riley says. And she pulls Maya in for another kiss.

Maya can’t really believe this is actually happening, but she isn’t going to question it. So after some making out, they go back indoors, holding hands. Maya carries the picnic basket, and Riley carries her comic. And when Maya says, “Are we girlfriends now?” Riley beams, her entire body language bouncy and energetic and happy in that ever-so- _Riley_ way. “I’d like that,” she says. And then she makes a terrible pun on Maya’s last name, something about owning her Heart, and she kisses her cheek, and Maya _should_ tell her off for such silliness, but Maya feels too full of joy and love to do anything about it.

 _I’m so lucky you love me_ , she thinks. _I’m so lucky._

**Author's Note:**

> i've been listening to miley cyrus on repeat, it's great, hahahaha.


End file.
